


Hate Crimes and Healing

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [44]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Brawling with hooligans, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Yes Jack - it was worse before you took him home, magical healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto may know how to brawl, but he has a lot to learn about fighting.  He somehow convinces Jack to take him home after the fight on the beach, and Draco is able to heal many of his injuries.  He's still plenty banged up when Owen looks him over the next day, though Jack is surprised that he isn't worse off...





	Hate Crimes and Healing

Ianto focused on Jack, fighting to stay conscious. He was relieved that Jack was all right, but slightly annoyed that he couldn’t have come around just a bit sooner. Before it was all over, at any rate. He was also annoyed that he couldn’t hit one of the arseholes, just a few more times. And something very dark inside wanted to take another hit or two, as well.

He found it best not to explore that notion too closely.

Jack looked around and quickly took in the situation. “You all right?”

“Seems my enlightened countrymen and I had a difference of opinion on the nature of love and friendship in the twenty-first century,” Ianto grinned, feeling punch-drunk, all of a sudden.

“Ianto,” Jack got a proper look at him and rushed to his side. “Jesus!”

“’s fine, Jack. Just take me home. I have some…” Ianto had a feeling it was a lost cause, but his recovery would be slow and painful, if Jack insisted on taking him to the hub rather than home.

“I’m calling Owen,” Jack said. He checked each of the four men. All were unconscious. Ianto had beaten the hell out of them, but Jack was relieved to find that he hadn’t gone too far. That said, he counted one ruined knee, two broken noses, a broken jaw, and a bleeding head wound. And that was after only the most cursory of glances.

“No,” Ianto sniffed. “Just want to go home.”

Jack marveled that Ianto was even conscious. “Ianto, you’re hurt. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“Want to press charges,” he muttered, his head lolling forward so his chin rested on his chest.

Jack was surprised. “You want me to call Heddlu?”

“Hate crime,” Ianto wheezed. “After everything, there’s no place,” he trailed off, coughing and groaning as the agony of doing so set in.

“I don’t disagree,” Jack said. “But we need to get you out of here. Calling in Heddlu will just keep us here longer.”

“What do you want to do?” Ianto asked, hoping his unexpected request to press charges would make Jack willing to negotiate.

“Shoot them in the head and throw them in the channel,” Jack said, with some heat. His head was bloody killing him. At Ianto’s speculative look, he added, “But I’d settle for Retcon and some reprogramming to make them a bit less aggressive.”

“Fine. We’ll do that. Then you can take me home,” Ianto said, holding out a hand, intending to help with the Retcon.

“I’ll take you home,” Jack said, against his better judgment as he hauled Ianto to his feet, “on the condition that you come in tomorrow and have Owen look you over.”

“Fair enough,” Ianto nodded. “Grab their wallets, yeah?”

Jack helped Ianto into the SUV and took care of Retconning the idiots. Ianto pulled a two pound coin out of his pocket and pressed it in a certain sequence. Then he realized it was a normal coin that he’d pulled it out of the pocket that he usually used for loose change, and cursed. He found the charmed coin he was looking for in the correct pocket and pressed it, just so.

He had agreed to carry the coin when Hermione reminded him of their old way of communicating, when they were still in school. But because Jack would recognize a galleon, they found a coin that Ianto didn’t normally carry. Now he had a way to get help, fairly quickly. He was hopeful that Draco would be waiting at the flat when he got home.

He missed Healers. Mending the muggle way was a long, often painful process. He’d been thankful that he’d found Draco, after Canary Wharf. He’d had broken bones, cuts, bruises, and severe burns, after going through the battle three separate times. Draco had been able to heal most of the injuries before Ianto reported back to be debriefed, still looking like hell but with injuries that would heal quickly and – relatively speaking – less painfully.

He was only hanging on to consciousness through sheer force of will when Jack finally returned to the SUV. He was doing his best to pretend he was better off than he was, but Jack was worried. “Need any help?” he asked, when he pulled up in front of Ianto’s flat.

“’m alright,” Ianto mumbled. He tried for a breath, which caught. He was pretty sure he had a couple of cracked or broken ribs from that bloody tire iron. “Jack,” he reached out for Jack’s hand and looked at the older man, his eyes bright with pain. “Thank you. Despite how the night ended, I appreciate it.” He huffed a half-chuckle. “I don’t even regret the fight, really.”

“If I don’t see you at the hub by noon, I’m bringing Owen over,” Jack gently squeezed Ianto’s hand before releasing it, watching the younger man walk slowly to the door. 

Jack hated the idea of leaving Ianto, but he was hoping that the younger man had gotten in more licks than he’d taken. They’d know in the morning. Jack was confident that Ianto wasn’t severely injured, given that he was still conscious and mobile. Owen could check him out in the morning.

***

Draco was waiting inside the door when Ianto entered the building. “Ianto!” he exclaimed, rushing to his friend’s side. “What the hell happened?”

“Attacked,” Ianto breathed, leaning heavily against his friend now that he didn’t have to pretend he was fine.

“What? Why?”

“Thought we were a couple,” Ianto explained.

“Thought who was a couple?”

“Jack and me,” Ianto said.

“Shit.”

Draco apparated with him to the Ministry’s flat across the hall from Ianto’s. He was appalled at Ianto’s injuries. “You have two broken ribs, and three cracked ones. Your radius is cracked, and your humerus has a hairline fracture. Half the bones in each wrist are completely fucked,” he muttered.

“That a medical term?” Ianto asked ironically.

“At least from these I know you gave as good as you got.”

“Last man standing,” Ianto murmured. “As per.”

Draco grasped his shoulder. “Tell me what to heal,” he said, hating that he just couldn’t take care of all of it.

“Leave two cracked ribs,” Ianto winced. “And the hairline to the humerus would be easiest to be getting on with, don’t you think?”

“Hairline to the radius would be easiest.”

“All right then. Pretty sure my nose is broken, and the left orbital might be cracked. Felt it pop. Jaw feels weird, too. And at least one tooth is loose.”

Draco shuddered. “You know, I could heal everything. You’ll still have severe bruising.”

“No, Jack knows it’s more than bruising.”

Draco did more diagnostic spells. “You’re right. Broken nose, orbital, and jaw. How are you talking? Teeth are okay, but loose. Moderate concussion.”

“That I can do without,” Ianto nodded. “Maybe mild?”

Draco worked quickly. He fixed Ianto’s nose and the bones in his face, and then his teeth. He healed the concussion so there was barely enough unhealed damage to lead to a diagnosis of a mild concussion. Luna had told him about the “Welsh standard” crack Owen had made, so they’d likely just chalk the lack of damage up to Ianto’s hard head.

He moved on to heal the ribs, reluctantly leaving two cracked. He healed the humerus, and stopped short of fully healing the radius, leaving a hairline fracture. Then he healed both wrists, leaving the inflammation and bruising after Ianto realized it wouldn’t be wise to make it look like he was more skilled a fighter than he was.

“I don’t understand the point of this charade. Your boss knows about the wizarding world, for Merlin’s sake.”

Ianto shrugged. “Not my choice.” So few things were, he found.

“So why were you on the beach, to begin with?”

Tears threatened again as Ianto told Draco about the naming ceremony.

“He called the elementals?” Draco asked, surprised.

Ianto nodded. “And I felt it, too.” He smiled. “First time in ages.”

Draco squeezed Ianto’s shoulder, sympathizing. He wasn’t sure how Ianto endured it, living so disconnected from his magic. But Draco was no fool. He knew the separation pained his friend. He could not understand why the Ministry would hobble such a talented wizard.

“That sounds like a beautiful ritual, Nif,” he said.

Ianto nodded again. “It was.” He described the rest, and said that as he and Jack were simply sitting by the fire, letting everything settle, they were attacked.

“I completely lost control,” Ianto whispered. “I’ve never felt so much rage. And that was just a few moments after I was feeling such peace, from the ceremony.”

“I’m not surprised, really,” Draco said. “You thought they’d hurt Jack. I know you’ve had a lot happen between you, but you consider him a friend, now. No one touches your friends, Nif. It’s always been that way.”

“I wanted to kill them,” Ianto admitted.

“But you didn’t. So that means you didn’t lose control. Not completely, at any rate. And you do need a way to work through the angry parts of your grief. Seems like it was a fortuitous happenstance.”

“Except for the arse-whupping I took,” Ianto groused.

“Except for that,” Draco grinned. “But hey – almost all better, now. Your team is going to think you’re a tough sonofabitch.” He looked speculatively at Ianto. “Which is true enough. You do realize you shouldn’t have been conscious, much less upright?”

“Just being stubborn, so I could get you to mostly heal me before Owen could see the damage. Don’t want to have to heal the long way, if I can help it.”

Draco chuckled and handed Ianto a potion to relieve the pain, and another for sleep. “You still look like hell. There’s nothing I can do about the bruising, at this point.”

Ianto stood up. “Don’t care how it looks. Just want to keep my teeth, if I can. And I feel well enough to get cleaned up before I sleep. Thanks for that. Jack wants me at the hub by noon, to get Owen to look me over.”

“Fair enough. I’ll take you to your bedroom, and Jack will just think you’ve been in there, this whole time.”

Ianto nodded. They apparated to his bedroom, and Draco left, promising to stop by the following afternoon.

“Thank you for coming in the middle of the night,” Ianto reached out and hugged his friend.

“Any time, Nif,” Draco returned the hug gingerly.

From the hub, Jack was relieved to see Ianto hobble to the bathroom, then back out again after a long, hot shower. Then, dressed in pyjama bottoms, a soft t-shirt, and a warm hoodie, he went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. He sat before the fire, drinking his tea and reflecting on the evening. He realized with a start that he had left behind the booties, but he knew that Jack would have put them someplace safe.

By the time the adrenaline finally wore off, the tea and potions had begun to take effect. He took his mug back to the kitchen and then headed to his bedroom. Crawling into his bed, he slept deeply until his alarm woke him.

***

He felt like hell as he entered the hub, promptly at noon. Owen had returned all of his over-the-counter meds along with everything else they had taken from his flat the night they put him on suicide watch, but they weren’t touching the pain in his ribs and his head. He was mightily grateful that Draco had healed most of the damage.

Owen was annoyed at being called in on what was meant to be his Saturday off, but as soon as he caught sight of Ianto, he began cursing. “What the fuck happened to you? Jack, why didn’t you call me in earlier?”

“He wanted to go home,” Jack shrugged. His stance was casual, but he was watching Ianto very closely. He’d have been willing to bet that Ianto was worse off than what he was seeing, now. Of course, he’d just been beaten to death with a tire iron, so perhaps his attention to detail was not at its best. But he could have sworn Ianto’s nose had been broken. He reached out to help Ianto out of his shirt, hissing at the vivid bruising along the younger man’s left side and arm, which had taken the brunt of the attack by the thug wielding the tire iron.

“Well it shouldn’t have been his choice,” Owen griped. He gestured to the bruising along Ianto’s side. “He could have had a broken rib and poked a hole in a lung, overnight.” 

Jack nodded. “Noted. Won’t happen again.”

Owen went back to looking Ianto over. He asked what had happened, and Jack looked to Ianto before answering. Ianto shrugged, and Jack explained about the naming ceremony, and how the four idiots had thought they were trysting on the beach.

“Shit,” Owen swore. Then he looked askance at Ianto. “And you fought them all?” He eyed Jack, who didn’t have a mark on him.

“They knocked me out, first,” Jack said. “Ianto didn’t have any choice but to fight them.”

“Well, I could have just let them beat me to death,” Ianto pointed out, and his reasonable tone made Owen shudder. It sounded as though Ianto had considered that option. But then he laughed as Ianto finished his thought. “But then I got a bit angry.”

Jack huffed. “A bit?”

“Okay. It was rage. At a level I’ve never experienced, before. I don’t know how I didn’t kill them all.”

“Because you weren’t out of control,” Jack said, a hand on his shoulder. The hand brushed down Ianto’s arm and took his hand.

Ianto watched, fascinated. He knew Jack liked to touch. It was his way of relating, of giving and receiving comfort. And perhaps it was a function of just how much comfort Ianto required at the moment that Jack had taken to touching him quite frequently. Ianto didn’t mind, really. As long as it didn’t aggravate any of his perpetually sore spots, he had no objections. In fact, he rather missed how much he used to enjoy touch, in much the same way that Jack did, now.

He shook his head. Those days were gone. The Battle of Hogwarts had changed him, in that respect. Everything just hurt too much. Superficial contact was fine; but anything more caused misery akin to a toothache.

But he enjoyed Jack’s gestures. They rarely hurt – mostly because Jack didn’t take liberties in the form of hugs and cuddles. No, Jack’s touches were reminders of what once was, and they were a comfort against present hurts. And every now and then, they were charged, somehow. Ianto couldn’t really discern what that meant – he’d been on sensory overload since Canary Wharf, and that was only now beginning to subside.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt a lovely little _zing_ whenever Jack touched him. It was pleasant. He doubted he would ever seek out the sensation, but he would certainly let himself enjoy it, when it happened. He had at one point wondered if it might be sexual, but he’d had no reactivity in that area since the morning before the battle. He would maybe talk to Draco about it, if it carried on, but for now he just didn’t care. He was too deeply mired in his own grief to be concerned about sex. 

Or the complete, utter, and hopeless lack thereof.

Okay, so maybe it did bother him, a bit. But he also remembered that it had taken almost six months after the Battle of Hogwarts for him to drum up any interest, so to speak. Seemed like it was just his reaction to the trauma of battle.

His attention was drawn back to Jack, whose strong hands were now holding both of his own. Touching really was a pleasant thing, when it didn’t cause old aches to play up. He blinked up at Jack, who was carefully examining Ianto’s bruised and swollen knuckles. Owen scanned his wrists as Jack held them.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break any of these bones. Everything is bruised all to hell,” Owen remarked, leaning over Jack’s arm to look at the bruises. He took one of Ianto’s hands from Jack and began manipulating it, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Knowing how to brawl isn’t the same as knowing how to fight. You could do real damage to your hands, if you’re not careful.”

“I want to start training you,” Jack chimed in, and Ianto blinked at him. Jack looked at Owen. “He looks a little out of it.”

Owen scanned Ianto’s head. “Yeah, he’s got a mild concussion. Would probably be a good idea not to let him drive home.”

“_He’s_ sitting right here,” Ianto snarked. He turned to Jack. “I was surprised, is all. Why do you want to train me?”

“I want you to be a proper part of this team, Ianto.”

“But I don’t want to be a field agent,” Ianto replied. Unless he could be out as a wizard and carry his wand, he didn’t want to face the second-guessing that already plagued his life.

“Just because I’m training you for the field doesn’t mean that will be your assignment.” At Ianto’s (and Owen’s) skeptical looks, he added, “Look, it’s a useful skillset. And if you’re going to be a part of the team – which I absolutely insist upon – then you need to be trained.”

Owen seemed satisfied with that answer, because he nodded and moved away from them. Ianto was not convinced. “Jack, I don’t understand.”

“I think part of the reason you were able to disappear is because there’s a sort of divide between field and admin.”

“That’s not entirely inappropriate,” Ianto reminded.

“No, it’s not,” Jack agreed. “Until it is. I want to eliminate that divide. Our team is too small for it. And you need to be a part of the team. Plus, you were lucky last night.”

Ianto leveled a glare at Jack, who put his hands up in defense. “I mean, they could have gotten in a lucky hit, and you’d have ended up beaten to death.”

Ianto huffed. “I know,” he admitted, looking away. He wasn’t entirely certain whether he was disappointed that they hadn’t. But he hated the idea of Jack waking to find him dead. Or that they could have moved on from Ianto to finish off Jack. And then there was that fucking promise his bloody friends had extorted from him.

He was still a bit peeved about that last one.

Jack still had one of his hands, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know you have mixed feelings about that.” He chuckled at Ianto’s startled expression. “You’re still too raw for those inclinations to have just vanished,” he explained. 

“Couldn’t let them at you without putting up a fight,” Ianto muttered with a shrug, and Jack felt something hitch in his chest.

“I’m glad you’re a brawler, Ianto. But if you’ll let me, I can make you a fighter. I can teach you technique and strategy and that will serve you in just about any situation you may find yourself in where you may have to fight your way out.” He grinned before adding, “And it’s a handy way to work off the anger.”

“I’m not angry,” Ianto protested.

Jack just stared at him.

“Okay, not consciously so,” Ianto amended.

“This will help with that. Keep it from coming out in unconstructive ways.”

“Listen to the man, Tea Boy,” Owen piped up. “For the sake of your hands, if nothing else.”

“When can we start?” Ianto asked.

Owen shook his head. “Not until I clear you. And with those ribs and that concussion, it’ll be two or three weeks, at a minimum, but possibly five or six, depending on how you heal.”

Ianto nodded.

After a late lunch at the pub with Jack, Ianto headed home, thanking Jack again for the ceremony. Owen had given him painkillers, which made him groggy, so he slept most of the afternoon. 

Draco and Luna checked on him that evening, and Draco gave him another potion after Luna fed him. The next day, Ianto slept almost constantly, though he was wakened by various friends to be fed. Luna and Neville brought him breakfast, Draco and Susan brought him lunch, and Jack stopped by with dinner. 

The two sat and ate in companionable silence. When they finished their meal, Ianto offered to put in a movie, but Jack declined, encouraging the younger man to get some more rest.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is still adorably clueless, but Ianto is definitely taking advantage of the older man's discombobulation due to the attack. Ianto doesn't realize that Jack was actually dead, but he knows the captain isn't at his sharpest.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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